


lover, be good to me

by fivegays



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: ;)c, Blow Jobs, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, Hand & Finger Kink, Humiliation, M/M, Praise Kink, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 18:57:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19340608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fivegays/pseuds/fivegays
Summary: You look really good today :)Send. Pat watches the “Delivered” message fade onto the screen, just as he realizes he wants to say it better.Sorry you’re the only one that dressed up. I would’ve worn something better if I knew you were gonna look, you know. Hot?Send. Brian pulls out his phone after the two buzzes from his prior texts, and Pat decides to squeeze in a third.Not that I have much that would fit “forensic scientist.”Send.hot, huh?a fic about the events of and following the deception: murder in hong kong overboard.





	lover, be good to me

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaaaAAAAAA hello its baby's first longer fic ! i've been going back n forth on this since the video came out but ! here it is! hope u enjoy!

Pat rewrites the message more than he should. There were so many ways he could say it, and on the inverse, so many ways he could take it. He shouldn’t be this nervous, either, but Brian had a way of putting him on edge just to release him like a rubber band.

_ You look really good today :)  _ Send. Pat watches the “Delivered” message fade onto the screen, just as he realizes he wants to say it better.

_ Sorry you’re the only one that dressed up. I would’ve worn something better if I knew you were gonna look, you know. Hot?  _ Send. Brian pulls out his phone after the two buzzes from his prior texts, and Pat decides to squeeze in a third.

_ Not that I have much that would fit “forensic scientist.”  _ Send.

_ hot, huh? _

Pat  _ would not _ admit to blushing. Absolutely not. It was only two words, only from his kind of secret boyfriend he cared about a lot. Would not admit to blushing, would not admit to it getting worse when he snuck a peek at Brian, heart eyes visible to anyone that looked.

_ I did say hot, didn’t I?? Haha. Can’t say I know many investigators that wear fully unbuttoned shirts and suspenders. _

_ Not that I mind. _

He can hear a huff of laughter from Brian at the end of the table, and he watches as he leans back in his seat, taps away at his phone, and slips it back into his pocket without looking at Pat.

_ are you cheating on me with a detective, pat gill? _

_ Wouldn’t dream of it, Brian David Gilbert. _

They finally start filming after another few minutes of setup and glances between Brian and Pat. It’s  _ agonizing _ how good Brian looks right now, but Pat can’t keep himself from looking. Even as he introduces the game with a rambling, “Welcome to the board game show on Polygon dot com forward slash YouTube forward slash YouTube forward slash Polygon dot com,” he steals a quick glance at Brian, and maybe he’ll admit that his heart fluttered seeing him laugh at his stupid joke. Maybe, if Brian was lucky. But right now, he’s trying to at least  _ look _ like he’s paying attention, though when he thinks about it he realizes he’s staring at a few spots on the wall of the studio.

He checks his phone instead, hoping it just reads as him checking the timer. He was bound to be bored if all he could do was confirm or deny accusations and move cards around. His head was somewhere else, that was all. He was ready to defend himself with any of those- until he sees another text from Brian.

_ for a role that’s not allowed to give hints, you’re not very subtle, pat. _

He can feel his stomach do cartwheels that his old, actual bones could never attempt. He’d look at Brian now and again, sure, but was it that weird?

“Well, perverted,” Matt starts next to him, and as quickly as he entered his anxious thoughts he’s pulled back out of them. “I thought maybe our forensic scientist was making a judgement against people who use whips.” He finishes, and Pat simply smiles as he tries to catch up on what he’s missed. Just has to listen, look at the cards around the table, and see who’s accusing who, how much time is left.

Oh, but Brian never liked to make things easy for him, did he?

“Pat would never judge someone for-” His voice fades into the crosstalk of the table, but that was all Pat needed to hear. He sneaks a glance at Brian, hoping to show him he could be  _ much _ more subtle than that sentence ever would be, but Brian’s already gazing at Pat, because of course he is. Brian and his dumb, pretty heart eyes, his soft face, the way locks of hair fall in front of his eyes no matter how many times he tries to reign it in.

“We can just say Pat is a kinkshamer,” Simone tries to settle the argument, but Brian, ever the brat that seeks to torment him and feign innocence as soon as he’s asked about it, gives his piece again.

“And he can’t say  _ anything _ about it, that’s true!” He’s so cheery as he says it, as he knows Pat is seconds away from dragging Brian into the office bathroom by his suspenders. Maybe he should- they still had a decent few hours of work to do after filming, he could wait until Brian didn’t have to be so camera-perfect. He could mess him up just 20 feet from their desks, ruffle his hair, mark from his jaw down his neck, unable to hide behind the soft off-white of his button up. He’d like it, too, always asking for something to remember him by. As if anyone could forget Brian.

As if he could ever make Brian look anything short of angelic.

It takes him a while to notice what Brian meant in his text. Every time his eyes are drawn towards Brian, every time he mirrors his actions, whether it’s chewing his nails or laughing in the same way. He couldn’t help himself- every fiber of his being wanted to be at home on one of their couches, admiring every inch of Brian whether he was in the suit or not. Beyond the way he imagined Brian, face buried in his neck and whining into his skin- he wanted to kiss him. Cup the sides of his face and card his fingers through his hair, wrap his arms around his waist and hold him tight, bodies close enough to become one, hearts rioting against ribcages and warm breath against lips. He’d kiss Brian a thousand times if it meant he knew how much he meant to Pat. If Pat was lucky, he would.

Pat takes the chance to look at him while he pushes his hair out of his face, and where he expects Brian to either be entirely focused on the game, not giving Pat the time of day until they were home alone, or to lock eyes with him just to quickly part ways, he finds something different. He curls into himself like he expects Pat to have him for his next meal, a peek into something shyer until he fully leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. Back to his normal, theater kid self that Pat liked to poke fun at so often, the shell around the Brian he became in the intimacy of each other, the Brian that stole Pat’s hoodies because he missed his cologne.

It almost becomes a game between the two of them. If Brian asked him, Pat might throw in the fact that it was a fight within himself too to not look at Brian. He was so  _ pretty _ it was criminal, an irony not lost on Pat as they play a tabletop detective game. There’s a push and pull as they  _ just _ miss each other’s glances, a spot in the edge of vision that runs away as soon as you peek at it. Brian reaches for his attention, always pushing his hair back in what seems like normal annoyance with his long hair, but Pat knows the motion will catch his eye and catch him in the loop of admiring Brian. It’s certainly an  _ alluring _ loop- his eyes drift from Brian’s fingers sliding back through his hair, down to his chest hidden behind his open button-up and tank top, down dark lines of his suspenders until he’s blocked off by the table. As hard as he tries to avoid it, he catches himself looking for a little too long, and Brian leans back in the same way as before, clasping his fingers across himself. He thinks he’s won, he’s drawn Pat in, he’ll be stuck here until they’re done filming.

That’d be the case, normally, but Pat’s got a plan and he’s dedicated himself to it. Pat couldn’t say it was easy to stick to it, of course not, not with the way Brian arches his back in a stretch while Pat’s trying to listen to the accusations around him, but he’s trying.

“All right, new clue’s going up.” Pat stands, he thinks maybe interrupting the game will force himself to focus on the shoot rather than Brian.

“The scientist is like ‘everyone shut up.’” Allegra says to scattered laughter from the table, and though Pat won’t tell her, she’s right. He swaps out the “In Progress” hint for “On Corpse”, and attention is immediately called to Brian’s hat card. Okay, maybe he made a mistake in interrupting the game after all.

“No,” Brian laughs nervously as everyone turns to him- except Pat. He sits back down, takes his time on refreshing himself, even flips his hair in the hopes Brian would notice this time.

It works.

“You guys, how could it, uh, the, I, it-” Brian stammers, reaches his hands forward like they’ll work better at convincing than what comes out of his mouth, his lips pulled into a guilty smile until he admits his defeat and goes quiet.

“I actually do have a thought for Brian,” Allegra starts and points at his cards next to her.

Brian leans into his hand over the table and hums, decides he’s too still and waves his hand dismissively. “It’s wrong.” He defends himself but isn’t looking at Allegra, no- his eyes are on Pat.

“So what if, post-coitus, make something in the blender-” Pat and Brian are already laughing in disbelief, Brian opting for ducking into his shoulder and hiding behind his curtain of hair while Pat goes for a simple head in his hands.

“Like a smoothie, a really really thick smoothie, and then-” They rise at the same time, Brian’s hands close to himself as Pat pushes his hair back out of his face.

“As you do,” Brian states with a remnant of laughter to it and opens his arms in a movement, “post-coitus-” He’s cut off by the accusation continuing, but they both catch how they miss each other’s gaze. Brian crosses his arms again and stares at his cards on the table, borderline  _ pouts _ , and Pat sneaks a glimpse at him before returning his attention to the game at hand.

“Brian’s GF- or whoever, BF, GF, I don’t care,” Allegra continues, and god they couldn’t have planned this if they tried. Pat watches Brian laugh a little and feels the wind knocked out of himself, gives up on the mug he’s holding in place of fiddling with the cards in front of him. He didn’t think anyone  _ knew _ , would have to talk to Brian about that later, but it certainly didn’t help the restless energy between the two of them. He blinks once, twice, stares at the same spots on the wall as he’s been for most of the shoot. He doesn’t dare look at Brian right now, not with what Allegra just said, but he can make out the surprise on his face from his peripherals. Yeah. Definitely something they’d talk about at home.

_ Home, _ Pat thinks. They still lived separately, definitely hadn’t dated long enough for them to move in together, but,  _ home. _ They usually chose whose place to go to based on what roommates were home, where was cleaner, what the itinerary was for the night, where was closer. There wasn’t a specific spot to call home.

It was wherever Brian was, he decides.

“They choke on the smoothie, and Brian’s wearing a hat.” Allegra finishes to the immediate laughter of the rest of the table. The hat was on the corpse, for one, and the whole theory was silly anyway, though that was par for the course for most of the accusations. Brian’s next to accuse, leans over the table to check cards again and spins a story of the scarf and necklace being gifts from a lover that eventually choked them. Pat shuts him down when the story’s done, to which Brian groans and flicks a card off the table. He watches it fly away and smiles at the camera before looking back down at the hint cards, and with Brian out of the round he hopes things will get a little easier.

“Lovers was a misdirect.” Allegra chimes in again.

“Why would the scientist misdirect us?” Matt questions in return, and Pat can hear Brian’s huff of a laugh at the end of the table.

Oh no.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Brian flip his hair out of his face and look over Pat’s head to where Matt sat next to him. “The scientist was just keeping things spicy,” He grins and dances in his seat, and Pat can’t help but give the slightest smirk and raise a brow. Spicy, huh. As much as he, uh,  _ really liked _ Brian, he couldn’t stand him sometimes. It was always to draw Pat right where he wanted him, teasing looks and jokes and invitations for drinks after work just to pretend  _ I have no idea what you’re talking about, Pat Gill. _ Not that he didn’t enjoy playing into it from time to time, fixing a mic just to touch Brian, get close enough to mumble about how Brian was gonna  _ get it _ later, always to Clayton’s dismay. If anyone knew about them, it’d be him, Pat thinks. But for the time being, Brian’s coy and energetic because he knows that Pat would rather be anywhere but here right now, anywhere Brian wanted to be.

The discussion continues around him and he hears tapping from the end of the table. He doesn’t look as soon as it starts, no, that’s exactly what Brian wants.  _ Attention _ . Wants Pat to look at him just to look away or play with his hair. Pat glances after a moment, only looks at Brian’s hands, knows it won’t be enough for him, and feels a rush down his spine when Brian pushes out a breath. Got him. The table’s talking about whips and cake being the true cause of the accident, and Brian knocks his head against the table as he thinks, but, in his own words, isn’t allowed to say anything about it. Pat takes the chance to look without Brian knowing, a quiet victory as he admires the splay of hair across the table. It’s getting long, he notes, remembers Brian mentioning getting a haircut after PAX, maybe. It’s been a while since he’s had short hair, but Pat enjoys running his hands through it all the same. Will always be long enough to pull on, Brian reassured him with a wink once, and Pat has to ignore the ache that sets in him now. They finally figure out that Simone’s the murderer, Brian’s the accomplice, and Karen’s the witness, and they share a laugh about how obvious it should have been.

“Can we talk about the biggest clue that you gave, which was murderer personality: perverted?” Simone extends her hand out to Pat as she calls him out. He mutters a simple, “yeah,” and tries to focus on Simone as Brian hops into his vision. He kindly got up to grab the cards that had been flicked across the room earlier, most would note, but he  _ also _ leans as far over the table in front of Pat as he can.

“Look, okay- I was- I was worried and with- with limited options,” Pat argues to quiet agreement from the table, “But everybody knows Simone is a pervert.” He finishes, and he can hear Brian laugh the hardest before they start setting up the next round.

It gets more difficult to not look at Brian the longer they film. Even if Brian’s not talking, he keeps finding himself drawn back, dragging his eyes up his suspenders to his narrow shoulders, up his exposed neck and skin that grows more red as time goes on, to light glasses and darker hair framing his face. He’s pretty, he’s  _ pretty _ , he tells Brian and tells himself all the time but it would never be enough. He’s pretty and he’s  _ Pat’s _ , and he hopes he’ll get the chance to tell him that over and over and hopes that the time comes soon.

“Allow me to paint the portrait where you are,” Simone starts a new, wild accusation, only to get cut off quickly.

“Can I not allow you to paint this portrait?” Brian asks and pushes his hair back for what must be the billionth time. Maybe not the billionth, definitely approaching the hundredth, Pat thinks.

“You’re on a balcony, sipping some soda, sucking on a lollipop,” Pat watches Brian swallow and shake his head, not meeting his eyes, which Pat decides might be for the best. He’s sure Brian would like to be sucking on  _ something _ right now, and he’s sure that he wouldn’t refuse the offer either. They bounce around ideas about a baseball bat cracking a skull, getting nowhere in particular, and Brian speaks up again.

“I really think,” Pat turns his head to look at Brian as he speaks, watches him stretch and puff his chest out before settling his arms back on the table with a thud. “Going out on a balcony, for a cigarette,” He extends a hand to each card as he mentions it, and Pat can’t help but move his gaze to follow. He never understood Brian’s thing about hands, always mentioning how  _ nice _ Pat’s hands are with that sickly sweet tone in his voice, the one Pat’s been conditioned to associate with getting him undressed. He could kind of see it now, though- Brian’s hands are slender, from years of playing instruments, he assumes. He mostly thinks of the first time they held hands, shaking pinkies hooking together until one of them, probably Brian, was brave enough to commit to the action enough to interlace all their fingers as they walked down a cool New York sidewalk. Beyond that, maybe, he thinks of the way Brian’s hands feel against his skin, slight calluses on his fingertips meeting Pat’s stubble as they close the distance for a smiley kiss. Beyond  _ that _ , well. Brian gave good handjobs, what could he say.

By the time he returns from admiring Brian to play with the deck of cards in an absent motion, he’s finished his thought, and Pat couldn’t be asked to try and act like he knows what it was. No one asks, luckily, just moves on to the next weird idea- dentures, this time, or the crack in the face, as Simone accuses. Brian bursts out laughing, leans back in his chair, fingers splayed across his stomach. He’s cute, dammit, and Pat hides his own smile behind his hand while he fiddles with the deck of cards again.

The accusations jump around the table, different objects and suspects being brought to light. Pat begs whatever is out there that  _ someone _ figures it out soon so they can go home and he can have Brian selfishly in his arms. Well, god, they couldn’t even go home after the shoot- still had the better part of a work day ahead of them. Pat decides there can’t be anything out there after all, since this is the hell he’s trapped in, fleeting glances at Brian looking the way he does. And, of course, Brian’s figured out a new tactic like he can read Pat’s thoughts- he kisses his knuckles and meets Pat’s gaze with wide, puppy dog eyes- to which Pat immediately looks away again. As much as he didn’t understand whatever hand fetish Brian had, he understood how that played into Brian’s  _ oral _ fixation, something that led to a lot of Pat shoving his fingers in Brian’s mouth, that led to a confusing, deep heat in his stomach. Pat regrets looking away, knows it’s what he needed to do to avoid jumping Brian’s bones, but also knows Brian’s gonna press at that button like a new wound. He’s out of the round, eventually, pushed into a corner of accusations where his boldness gets the better of him and he pitches without thinking, and he tosses a card with a grunt and a smile that gives him away. Simone accuses Brian right after, continuing their trend of mutual distrust, and Karen brings up her sculpture and bug theory. Pat knows this isn’t going anywhere fast, and, in an off moment, decides to look at Brian.

_ Oh _ .

He pushes back his hair as an excuse to look at Brian, and  _ oh _ , Brian must have caught on to his excuses by now because his jaw is dropped, thumb behind his lip as he moves his hand in a motion that can’t  _ not _ be read as a blowjob. Pat bites his own finger, whether he’s mirroring or trying not to scream, he’s not sure, but  _ god _ he’s too old for this. Brian’s gonna be the death of him, someday, maybe today if he keeps this up. As hard as he fights, Brian’s got him wrapped around his finger, and that finger is currently stuck at work where he doesn’t dare to do anything too risky.

Finally, the shoot finishes up, Karen’s sculpture bug theory being right, funnily enough. Pat’s almost excited to move on to the second stage of hell, the rest of the work day, where at least he can text Brian without being too obvious, or meet him in the break room to shoot the shit and maybe sneak a kiss.

It’s a while before he hears from Brian again, though even 10 minutes without him right now felt like a lifetime, but this is closer to an actual lifetime. 40 minutes, he’d guess. He hears Brian before he sees him, feels him before he sees him as he places a hand on Pat’s shoulder. Not too friendly for work, but sparking more flame than it should within him.

“Pat!” He lights up when Pat turns to face him, enough energy to run a marathon, he bets, while Pat’s barely making it through a few minutes. “Can I bounce ideas for a script off you tonight? Go to your apartment, toss some ideas at you, maybe make dinner,” Brian’s tone swings back and forth like he’s singing the plan, and Pat’s endeared. Brian’s cute, well, all the time, but cute when he’s trying to get Pat to invite him over like neither of them have an ulterior motive.

“You don’t wanna go to your apartment, Bri- an?” Pat coughs between syllables because he’s so used to calling him Bri in the comfort of each other, so  _ not _ used to Brian starting something this fiercely while they’re at work, and he thinks he’s left too much of a pause between syllables for it to be unsuspicious to their coworkers that he has to cover it up with something. Brian laughs and squeezes Pat’s shoulder, and he can feel blush creep up from where Brian’s touching him to his ears and cheeks.

“Nah, Jonah and Laura are home today, I don’t wanna keep them up all night.” Brian slips his hand to the base of Pat’s skull and cards his fingers through his hair, and Pat regrets not showering this morning. Brian doesn’t seem to mind, though, perfectly content to trap Pat in his touch.

“All night, huh? What are we working on?” Brian’s smile grows as he realizes that’s Pat’s covert way of inviting him over for the night, and Pat can’t help but smile too.

“I’m just stuck on some delivery and writing stuff, I wanna make sure that this script doesn’t  _ suck _ .” Brian gives him a wink and pulls away from Pat, turning on his heel to walk back to his desk before Pat can connect his nerves into reaching for him.

Well, shit. The third level of hell was secret intimacy with your boyfriend in an open office, and the fourth was waiting another few hours for actual intimacy with your boyfriend in the comfort of your apartment.

The following hours are exactly what he expects- the occasional dirty text from Brian, always something about how Pat couldn’t focus during filming, he wonders how he’s doing now that he knows what’s coming. And, he’s not dealing with it well, not according to the amount of editing he’s done versus what was supposed to be done today, but he’s not gonna tell Brian that. The rest is, well, just that. Watching frames go by until he realizes oh shit, he’s supposed to cut this or put in that and he rewinds until the cycle restarts. He counts the seconds until the end of his shift, speeds to close everything he’s barely worked on today, and tries not to run to Brian’s desk.

But- he’s not  _ at _ his desk.

Pat puts a hand on his hip, squints, looks around the office- ignores the glances from other coworkers as they wonder what he’s looking for. Brian’s nowhere to be found, until he feels a buzz in his pocket.

_ see you at yours ;) _

Fucker, Pat thinks. How did he leave before Pat? He’d been as quick as he could be, took all his strength not to clock out early and pull Brian along with him.

_ Fucker. _ Pat sends. He’d pay for that later in brattiness, probably, but then he realizes- they  _ are _ headed for the same place, Pat can just leave now, and, even though it sucks, he’ll just get there a little later than Brian. He pushes down any thought of what will be waiting for him at home, he knows he’ll never be able to guess and, hey- Brian’s surprises were always the best part.

He finally reaches his door after what feels like ages, and on a whim, checks for the spare key he hides outside. Not there. Of course. Either Brian’s inside or he’s been burgled. Hopefully the former, Pat thinks as he turns his key in the lock.

It’s the former, and boy what a form it is.

Brian’s leaned back on the couch, waves bunched up where they meet cushion and cotton, darker suspender straps leading down, down over his now-wrinkled button-up to connect with the waistband of his pants, legs long and spread until they reach dress shoes. He doesn’t give Pat the time of day until he clears his throat, signals his presence in his own apartment.

“Hey Pat,” Brian greets like they’re in the office again, minus the usual flirting and teasing he dares to do in the office anyway. “How was work today?”

Pat doesn’t dignify him with a response. Anything he could think of saying would be playing into Brian’s game, the exact answer he wants to know he’s still got Pat wrapped around his finger.

So, Pat acts.

He shuts the door with his hip, tosses his keys to where he hopes the bowl is- misses, based on the tinkling clatter of metal against wood he hears but doesn’t care to check. He strides in front of Brian, and in a movement he hopes is graceful and seductive, a movement that doesn’t give away how nervous and incredibly eager he is, straddles him. Pat meets his eyes, suppresses the rush of joy he gets when he sees Brian’s jaw is dropped, the fact that he’s shut him up for once. He tilts Brian’s chin up with two fingers, relishes the bob of his Adam’s apple as he tries to read what Pat’s trying to do.

Pat leans in, slow, using every ounce of his self-restraint not to kiss Brian. It’s his game now, and when Brian tries to close the gap, Pat shoves him back against the couch.

“Pat, please-” Brian huffs, and he takes it as a little victory whether it’s from the impact of cushions or genuine frustration.

Pat hums and waves a finger at him, scolding and diminutive. Another sigh, maybe out of disappointment but more likely that Brian  _ loves  _ this, loves the way that Pat degrades him, always has. He leans in to Brian’s ear, inhales once, and prays that he has the nerves to say what he wants without stumbling.

“I was pretty obvious today, huh?” He whispers, slips two fingers under a suspender and follows the trail from his shoulder to his chest. “Said it yourself.” He pulls back and snaps the suspender against him, locks away the way Brian gasps for another night on his own.

“Y-yeah,” is all Brian manages to get out. Pat’s fine with that- any more and he’d have to jump to step 3.

“I can’t help looking at you, Brian.” Pat shrugs and averts his eyes, watches his fingertips disappear behind the waistband of Brian’s pants. He wouldn’t touch him yet, not until he’d really earned it, just wanted him to know what he was missing out on.

“You’re so  _ pretty _ I can’t stand it.” He drags his blunt nails up Brian’s stomach, focusing more on the way he shudders than the pink marks it leaves. “Your hair always falling in your face.” He cards his other hand through Brian’s hair, tender until he pulls the ends. “The look you get when you look at me.” Pat pauses, meets his eyes again. He feels a little sting from the way tears threaten to fall around the edges, but he knows that Brian would stop him if he wasn’t really into this. The sting turns into an extra burst of adrenaline, forces him to run to the cliff’s edge and jump off without the cord of his nerves.

“The way you chew your nails when you’re thinking.” Pat interlaces their fingers and kisses across Brian’s knuckles. The calm before the storm. Pat watches his expression change in realization as he unweaves their fingers, prods his own past Brian’s lips. He can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine as Brian swirls his tongue, a momentary diversion into wet heat.

“You’d look so pretty sucking me off, Bri.” Pat lets his smile slip at Brian’s moan. He’d be a  _ little _ nice, let him know he loved backing him into a corner like this.  “Such a slut for it. Bet you’d do it anywhere if I asked you. Under my desk while I’m streaming? Office bathrooms?” He can almost feel the lightbulb come to life above his own head. He leans in to whisper in Brian’s ear again.

“Bet you’d get under the table in front of everyone. Let them all know you’re mine.” Brian whines and bucks his hips into Pat’s, desperate for any kind of friction.

“Please,  _ Pat. _ ” His words are muffled by the fingers in his mouth, and Pat laughs at the way drool slides down his chin, matches a single tear on his cheek. He laughs like acid, cruel, tells Brian how pathetic he becomes under Pat’s hands.

“Hm? Do you want something?” Pat plunges his fingers deeper, almost chokes Brian on them. Not yet, he decides.

“Lemme- I wanna-” Brian writhes under him to try and shove a hand down Pat’s pants, and, oh, he’s not gonna take that shit  _ at all. _ He nearly rips his fingers from Brian’s mouth, grabs his wrists and pins them back against the cushions.

“You’re so hungry for it you don’t know how to use your words? I’m impressed, usually I can’t get you to shut up.” He punctuates it with another shove, shifting his hips to really lock Brian in his place. “C’mon. Spit it out. Or is it still too hard for you?” Sometimes he thinks he’s being too mean, but the way Brian whines brings him right back, reassures him that this is just peachy.

“I-I wanna suck your dick, Pat.” Brian blinks and pushes the tears over the ledge and down his cheeks. His lips are swollen, shining with spit just like his chin, and Pat swears he’s never been more in love. Locks of hair darken from where they’re stuck to his forehead, the rest mussed where Pat ran his fingers through it. His chest is heaving and he chants a quiet  _ please, please _ under his breath.

Ah, what the hell.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Pat coos and turns to sit on the couch. “I wanna hear that please next time, though.” That jolts Brian from where he’s frozen, kicks awake the part of his brain that says fuck yes, this is happening. He scrambles to kneel in front of Pat, but doesn’t touch him yet.

“Can-  _ may I _ touch you, sir?” Brian pleads, and fuck, Pat’s too old for this. Too old for the way his heart races at the title, too old for how holy Brian looks on his knees in front of him.

“Sure, baby.” Pat shrugs like he couldn’t give less of a shit what Brian did with him. He’s been waiting for this all day, agonizing glances at Brian across the table and then hours without him, the worst kind of withdrawal and the best kind of high. The push and pull made their heads spin, always led to frantic making out in the bathrooms, in the doorway, on the couch. Always led to them in each other’s arms again after, the stillness of tired breathing and skin against skin. He wouldn’t give it up for the world.

Brian slides his hands up Pat’s thighs, scooches closer now that he has permission. He fumbles for a second in unbuttoning Pat’s jeans, and on a worse day he might’ve punished him for it. But, to be frank, he’s too eager for Brian to blow him to really stop him now.

He pushes Pat’s jeans down enough to be able to slip his dick out of his boxers, and, wow, he’s harder than he realized. He was so focused on the hurtling speed of putting Brian in his place that he’d ignored how he was feeling. He curses himself for being as sensitive as he is, knows this isn’t going to last as long as he’d like it to, but he hopes that being mean again will prolong the inevitable. If it doesn’t, well, he’s gonna be mean anyway.

Brian swirls his tongue around the tip, looks pleased with himself when Pat’s head drops back against the couch. He doesn’t waste time and pushes further forward, hollows his cheeks, bobs his head once, slow enough to show he thinks he’s winning.

“So pretty.” Pat sighs and slides his hand back to the base of Brian’s skull. “My pretty boy.” He guides the pace, still slow, but further, holding him there until the tears well in his eyes. “So good at what you do.”

That earns a hum and a confused look from Brian. Pat almost laughs, adores the way Brian can look so clueless, so normal while blowing him, like they were having a conversation at their desks.

“What you do, Bri. How you’ll always,” Pat tugs him back by his hair, forcing him to move quicker, wills his own hips not to buck into his mouth. He was mean, sure, but didn’t want to hurt Brian without planning on it. “Always come back here. All heart eyes and  _ please _ and bouncing in my lap.” And  _ that’s  _ when it clicks for Brian, when he shudders and whines around Pat’s cock.

“You love it though, don’t you? You love flipping your hair and making jokes I can’t fight against, coming to my desk to ask to come over when you’re just gonna end up right here again.” Okay, maybe Pat was wrong about the cruelty calming him down, because he’s  _ so _ close and Brian’s mouth is all he’d been dreaming of all day. They’ve been dating long enough for Brian to know all the things that make Pat squirm, and saying he puts that knowledge to use would be an understatement. He lives it, breathes it, whether it’s the simplest of touches on the back of Pat’s neck or what leads them here. It’s thrilling and infuriating and Pat can never get enough of it.

“You don’t care if I mark you up, no, so happy to wear hickeys like a medal.” Brian’s picking up speed and Pat can’t be bothered to complain about it, lost in the feeling of it all, lost in the way he flattens his tongue and the way his hair falls in his face and the way Brian  _ is,  _ love and flame and sweet smoke.

“My beautiful boy,  _ Brian- _ ” Pat tenses, thrusts his hips once, twice- and then it’s over. He grips Brian’s shoulder as he rides through it, repeating his name like it’s the only thing grounding him to the physical plane. It  _ is _ \- maybe he’ll tell Brian that. Someday. Maybe.

Brian pulls back with a pop and a sigh that makes Pat shiver as he tucks himself back into his pants. “Was I good?” He asks, still on his knees until Pat’s ready.

“Oh, fuck you,” Pat laughs and hides his face behind his hands. He realizes that he’s been laughing too long, that Brian’s still waiting for a genuine answer. Still gotta take care of him, too.

“Yes,  _ yes _ , you were amazing. C’mere.” Pat motions to his lap with a limp, fucked-out hand, laughs again when Brian’s on him within a second.

“Still love me?” He asks, and the way Brian sounds so small, so unsure, nearly breaks Pat’s heart.

“Course I do.” Pat responds, and everything is serene for a bottled moment- until they each realize.

“Did we-”

“We haven’t-”

Another moment passes, anxieties tripping over each other to reach the space between them.

They laugh.

“I can’t believe we said our first I love you just after my dick was out.” Pat ducks into Brian’s shoulder and wraps his arms around his waist to pull him closer.

“I can,” Brian hums. “You’ve got a good dick, Pat Gill.” He laughs wickedly as Pat groans into his shoulder.

“I take it back, I’m shutting you up again.” He threatens with no real venom, savoring the feeling of laughter rising in his chest and the way Brian’s sweat mixes with his cologne and finally knowing they  _ love _ each other.

“You wouldn’t, you love me after all.” Brian taunts, and Pat pulls back to meet his eyes again, cup his cheek in his palm.

“Yeah,” Pat smiles. “Guess I do.”

They kiss for the first time in what feels like ages, rhythm natural and perfect and full of the tenderness of a post-I-love-you world. He can get used to this, he thinks.

“Want me to,” Pat interrupts himself with one last chaste kiss. If he couldn’t stop kissing Brian before, he was in a whole new territory. “Get you off?” Brian rolls his eyes and laughs, knocking their foreheads together in a way neither of them can be bothered to complain about.

“Do you have to ask?” Brian grins and moves to unclasp his suspenders, when Pat remembers- step 4. They’d gone a little off the rails, if off the rails was throwing the train into the ocean and seeing where that took them, but Pat was looking forward to this idea.

“Don’t.” Pat leads his hand to rest on the back of the couch. “Mind if I be a little mean still?”

“Never,” Brian kisses his forehead and okay, yeah, Pat blushes. “I trust you, Pat.”

“I- I’m glad. I trust you too, Bri.” Pat kisses each cheek, then works down to his jaw to the tip of his chin. “Think you can get off on my thigh?” Pat peeks up just in time to see Brian’s lips part, his jaw go slack.

“Yeah, uh-” Brian pushes a hand back through his hair, tries to get a reign on the mess they’ve made of it. “Yeah. I think so. Only one way to find out, huh?”

“You want to? You don’t have to, hon. If you don’t want to.” Pat’s backpedaling, hoping he hasn’t pushed too far. But Brian pushes him right back.

“No-  _ no _ \- It’s just. Hot.” He laughs and hides his face in Pat’s shoulder, and god, what a relief.

“Oh!” Pat exclaims. “Well, good. I thought so too.” He smiles and rests his hands on Brian’s hips. “I’ll be nice this time.”

“You say that like mean was a bad thing,” Brian sighs and rolls his hips, stuttering when he hits the right spot. “Which it very much wasn’t.”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me, with the way you were crying and begging me to let you touch me.” Pat spits one last bit of vitriol, shakes his head after. “Sorry. Had to get it out.” He pulls Brian forward in his lap, smile growing when he gasps.

“If I remember right,” Brian grips the couch tighter, needs to pause to let his foggy brain catch up. “ _ You _ straddled  _ me. _ ” Pat punishes him with a nudge of his thigh, to which Brian leans forward and sighs into his shoulder.

“Can’t let you be the only one on top.” He slinks his arms around Brian, lets him do all the work while Pat just holds him. “Not that you’re a top, anyway.” They laugh, happy to simply be in each other’s arms, no need for innuendo and the thrill of the chase, only making each other feel good out of love.

“I could t-top if I wanted to.” Brian pants, the movement of his hips getting more and more unsteady.

“Mhm.” Pat hums, the lack of an argument speaking for itself.

“I could! Just you wait, Pat, I’m gonna rock your world.” His sentence is broken up by his own sighs, and Pat rolls his eyes.

“If you top, I don’t get to see all the pretty expressions you make when you’re close.” Brian laughs, then moans, lashes fluttering as he grinds against Pat’s thigh. “See? That was a good one.” 

“I like when you call me pretty,” Brian mumbles, blushes.

“Yeah?” Pat grins. “You’re the prettiest.” That gets a sigh out of Brian, and from the way he’s breathing, he’s not gonna last much longer.

“My pretty boy,” He holds Brian tighter, buries his face in the space between his shoulder and neck. “I love you so much, you’re so beautiful. What’d I ever do to get so lucky,” Pat whispers, breath hot against Brian’s skin.

“Pat,  _ Pat, _ ” Brian whines, but he’s unrelenting.

“So, so pretty.” He murmurs. “And all mine.” And that’s the straw that breaks the man.

Brian cries once and shakes while Pat rubs his back, eases him through it. “There you go,” He shushes. “I got you, sweetheart. I got you.” It was calming for Brian and himself, bringing them down from tight strings and cliff faces. He liked being mean, in the moment, but the nerves of going too far never left him, no matter how often Brian reassured him. Lucky for him, Brian always came back, always said he still liked him-  _ loved _ him, now.

“I love you,” Brian whispers like he can hear Pat’s thoughts. Pat was an easy read when he was lost in thought, staring off into the middle distance while Brian was always ready to call him on it.

“I love you too, Bri. You good?” Pat traces circles on his back and Brian nods.

“Good. Sticky, but-” He laughs. “Real good.”

“Let’s get comfy, then.” Pat smiles, taps his fingers on Brian’s back and leaves to grab towels.

“Get you all washed off, into some comfy pajamas, take a well-earned nap.” Pat calls from the other room, making his way back with a handful of towels and whatever sweatpants were clean.

“It’s like 7 pm, Pat.” Brian scoffs with a smile, looks him up and down.

“Sleepy time is any time, Brian. You’ll learn that when you get older.” Pat leans against the bathroom doorway, nudging the door open with his elbow. “Get in here.”

“You’re only six years older than me, dear.” Brian stands, winces as whatever mess is in his pants shifts to a different uncomfortable spot. “But a nap does sound good.”

“I’ve got some bad news, though, Bri.” Pat notes as he watches Brian approach.

“Hm?” Brian hums, freezes, checks himself for any stains.

“I don’t think we’re gonna have time to work on that script.” Pat laughs as Brian shoves him and closes the distance with a kiss to his cheek.

“Oh, I think we have  _ plenty _ of time.” Brian saunters- as best as he can in this state- toward the shower and turns on the water. “Or is that something you lose when you’re older too?” He quirks a brow back at Pat.

“Haven’t lost it yet, anyway.” Pat follows him in and closes the door behind them. Hearts full of love as they fall asleep that night, Pat thinks- they’re gonna be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> if u wanna see me shitpost about my fics n how cute the whole video team is, follow me @ les-brian on tumblr !


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